Within The Temple
by Pearl Teardrops
Summary: [Rambo Fanfic after III.] When John is asked to complete a mission in Mexico, he get's a partner who will bring back painful feelings. [CHAPTER 3 IS UP!]
1. Frustrating Air Time

[ Just a note. I don't own the Rambo characters or anything like that. This is just for peoples enjoyment, so, don't sue me! Thanks.]  
  
  
  
Dust flew up from the great gusts of wind made by the helicopter. As the force of the gusts became steadier, the helicopter inched its way down to the ground. The sun shone in the cloudless sky and beat down on the hot, dry desert. It felt as if it was almost 120 degrees, and there was no wind.  
  
A shadow cast about the desert as a well-built man made his way to the helicopter. His short, thick jet-black hair was ruffled and flowing slightly with each rotation of the chopper. This man wasn't very tall, but his muscles and ruggedness paid up for it. Not only was his appearance a bit intimidating, but his dark brown eyes stared hard at everything he looked at. He went by the name of Rambo. His real name was John, but most people he knew (which wasn't a lot to begin with) called him that. Rambo's dark bronze, vein-ridden arm went to his face to shield the blinding sand from his eyes as he got closer.  
  
Some how, he managed to be able to see through the sand and to the door, where he finally hopped in and was greeted by a two people in the back. Both had on headsets and large guns in their hands. One greeted him with a pat on the shoulder. He had a mustache and sunglasses; he looked a bit older. Another and poked his head out to look about the desert. This one looked quite a bit younger and had dark brown hair. Rambo gave a nod to both men as he sat down on the open space in the back of the military helicopter. As he lowered himself in the corner, he pushed his legs up and rested toned arms on his knees. Rambo looked down at the ground in thought.  
  
' God, I'm so glad I'm getting out of here. Back home I go. '  
  
As he thought to himself silently he put his head back and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. He was so glad to finally be able to go home. Although he had no family that he knew of, he was sure that he'd manage to find a place to live.  
  
'I've spent almost all of my life alone-what's gonna make a difference if I spend the rest of it that way?'  
  
As his head lay against the walls of the chopper, he felt his sore and tired body relax slowly. Those hard brown eyes slowly shut, and his breathing became steadier.  
  
The younger brunette man looked to the fully relaxed body in the corner. He glanced to the man beside him and whispered softly.  
  
"So. That's John Rambo, eh?"  
  
The other man nodded as he fixed the strap of his gun.  
  
"Yeah. That's him. I think he's finally gonna settle down. I heard that he's been a Green Beret for almost 10 years. The man is a legend!"  
  
The younger man's eyes widened as he looked to Rambo and then quickly back to the elder man.  
  
"Are you serious?!"  
  
The older man gave a nod, and went back to fiddling with his gun.  
  
With a shrug the younger man looked out a small window at the desert floor below.  
  
Rambo continued to rest, starting to slip into a light sleep. He'd just rescued about a dozen Afghans about a day ago, and he was more than ready to relax. Soon, he'd be back in the US, where he'd start a new life. He hoped this would be better than what he had experienced before.  
  
The powerful gusts of wind escaped through the cracked door, the warm, dry air pushing into his face, his jet-black hair rustling about. This woke him up, his head perking up quickly. He sighed softly, rubbing his eyes as he muttered a few curse words under his breath. He had never wished so badly to see a bed before.  
  
The younger brunette man looked at Rambo from the window, seeing his quick jerk-like movement.  
  
"It'll be a quite a few hours. You might as well try to take a rest."  
  
Rambo looked to the man, but didn't seem as if he were acknowledging him or anything. He looked way too tired to care. Now, he usually wasn't this ornery, but he was so exhausted, that he didn't have enough energy to be nice to anyone at the moment. Rambo nodded and pushed his head against the wall, slowly closing his eyes once more . . .  
  
* * * *  
  
It'd only felt like he had just closed his eyes when someone shook his shoulder. His eyes opened quickly and quite abruptly. It was the older man who had woken him up. Although he was still a little groggy, he felt fully energized.  
  
Rambo rubbed his eyes and then stood up, stretching his arms out. As he rested his arms to the side he looked out the window and expected to see an American landing strip of some sort. But instead saw an old, long pavement of tar that they must have landed on, and a small building quite a few yards away from it on the side. Behind the building there were old weeds and shrubbery growing wild. This place looked like it hadn't been used in a few years.  
  
"Where the hell am I? I'm supposed to be in America!" He exclaimed as he looked to the pilot and the two men.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we've had strict orders from Sargent Trautman that we were supposed to be landing here." Replied the pilot.  
  
Rambo bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling. He slid the helicopter door open, hearing the door shake behind him when it hit the side of the helicopter as he jumped out. He'd never felt this angry before. 


	2. Trautman's Plan

His hard brown eyes stared straight at the small building, feeling his body temperature heighten with his anger. The shrubbery and wild forest growing behind the old brick building was moving in the musty damp wind. He wondered where in the world he was, and mostly, why he wasn't in America.  
  
Rambo muttered curse words under his breath as he finally got to the heavy door. It had paint peeling off of it and it took a lot of strength to open it, since it was broke. But he managed to swing it open, and inside it felt even hotter then it did outside. Old rickety ceiling fans spun slowly, although it was just spreading the sticky dampness around the room even more. There were office desks, with a few people behind them. There were stacks of papers, and typewriters clicking non-stop. The people who were working behind the desks looked up at the intimidating figure that slammed the door into the wall violently.  
  
A deafening silence fell among the sparse workers inside the building, and it was so quiet, you could hear the exotic birds from out back. He shut the door behind him, and glanced at the people, becoming even more confused. Then a familiar voice automatically demanded his attention, and broke the silence.  
  
"John."  
  
Rambo looked up; his eyes still drowned with anger. It was Trautman! He didn't look at him with disrespect, just pure anger.  
  
"John."  
  
This time, he said it with more of a scolding tone. He then motioned Rambo to follow him. Before Rambo could think of hesitating, Trautman was already started down a hallway. Rambo followed hesitantly, getting more frustrated with every second. He wasn't here to play any games. He just wanted to find out why he was he wasn't in America.  
  
Trautman soon came to a door, and opened it. Rambo stepped in after him, and saw a small room with a desk. Papers and files were stacked up everywhere. There was a ceiling fan spinning above the desk. A window was behind the desk that was partly covered by curtains. A little light shone through the window.  
  
Trautman walked behind the desk and sat in the chair, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. He gave a nod, looking up to Rambo.  
  
"Take a seat, John."  
  
Rambo did as he was told, though he was still furious, just wanting him to get to the point. His eyes met Trauntman's dark hazel ones. Trautman looked back into Rambo's. Rambo's hard stare fell down in respect.  
  
"John, I know you've just been through a very difficult mission, in which you've succeeded. But here in Mexcio-"  
  
Rambo abruptly looked at Trautman.  
  
"What?! In Mexico! I'm in Mexico?!" He asked sternly, standing up before his mentor.  
  
Trautman looked up at Rambo and sighed heavily.  
  
"I knew you wouldn't take this well, John. But, we have another mission for you here. We need you to go to the ancient temple ruins of an extinct tribe deep in the jungle. The ruins of Talaman. Deep inside the temple is a large jewel by the name of the Talaman Emerald. There are Brazilian missionaries that have been sent out by the Brazilian government to steal the emerald."  
  
Rambo shook his head, with disbelief. He couldn't believe what Trautman was telling him to do! He'd just finished a mission, been through Hell and back, and now he wanted him to go on another.  
  
"Sir! I've just gotten through with a mission! Now you want me to go on another a few days later?! Your unbelievable!!"  
  
"Rambo, we need that jewel. We can't let the Brazilian government take it! We've been asked to keep that jewel where it is! Horrible things could happen!"  
  
Rambo sat down in the chair before the old rough looking desk. He ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed heavily. He'd had enough of all this. He wanted to relax and just go home!  
  
"John. I've never asked you to do anything I didn't think you could do. I know we've asked you to a lot, but you're the best we have and we need you!" Trautman said. He sounded like he was almost begging.  
  
Rambo sighed and looked at Trautman and nodded softly, his eyes fixed on him.  
  
"Alright. When do I start then?" Rambo asked, still sounding a bit frustrated.  
  
"Ah. I forgot to tell you one other thing." Trautman replied.  
  
Rambo's brows raised slightly, wondering what he could have possibly forgotten to tell him now.  
  
"We've partnered you up with someone. They'll help you get through the jungle. It's like a maze there. It takes awhile and a good sense of the jungle to even get to the temple ruins, let alone inside the temple."  
  
Rambo hid it inside, but he wasn't ready to partner him up with someone. He'd never had a partner since. Oh God, it was hard to even think about it. His gaze fell down for a moment, before getting lifted back up by Trautman.  
  
"I'll bring her in."  
  
". Her?"  
  
Trautman nodded.  
  
"Yeah. She knows the jungle like the back of her hand. She's also very experienced when it comes to combat with guns, hand-to-hand. Anything you can think of. She'll be an excellent partner."  
  
Trautman stood up, and walked out of the room.  
  
Rambo sighed, closing his eyes. He couldn't believe what was happening already. Everything was happening too fast. And now, he was getting partnered up with woman for his mission. Adding to all this stress, this partner thing was going to bring back so much. It was going to hurt him uncontrollably.  
  
Before he could think about anything else, the door opened again, and his head turned around on reflex. Standing there was Trautman. And then. there was a woman. She looked about 5'6 and had creamy tan skin. She didn't look like she was beyond her mid 20's. Her ebony black hair fell down her shoulders, each strand ending in a curl. Her dark brown eyes were full and capturing. There was a beauty mark on the right corner of her chin. She wore faded blue jeans and a white tank top. There was a gun in a leg holster and a combat dagger strapped onto the belt of her jeans. There was a very naive look to this Mexican woman, even with all the weapons.  
  
Trautman motioned for the woman to follow him, and she did, glancing at Rambo for a moment, before keeping her focus on Trautman. The Sargent stood before Rambo.  
  
"John. This is Alisa Amorez."  
  
Rambo stood up, having a good 4 to 5 inches above her. He extended his hand. Alisa gave a nod and shook his large, vein-ridden hand.  
  
"Nice to meet you." Alisa talked with a slight Mexican accent.  
  
Rambo nodded and looked to Trautman.  
  
"When do we leave?"  
  
"Tonight" He replied looking at the two.  
  
[ Well. That was my second chapter. I hope you all liked it! PLEASE Review this! Thanks!] 


	3. New Ideas

About an hour had passed since Trautman had given them both the news of the plan to Mexico. Rambo was in a small lobby room, where he sat on an old, worn down sofa. He sat there and thought about all that had been planned. He had mixed feelings about the ordeal. It's not that he didn't like his new partner. Hell, he didn't even know her yet! But, if he got too close to the woman, he was afraid he'd loose her, like he had lost his previous partner. He shook his head slightly, his tufts of black hair falling out from his eyes. Who said he was going to even get close? This was a strictly professional level.  
  
Alisa walked into the small sitting room and headed for the soda pop machine. She had two quarters in her hand and jingled them softly in her fist as she approached it. Her dark chocolate brown eyes searched the selections. She then glanced up the coin slot. She saw how much it was worth and immediately noticed she was a quarter short.  
  
"Damnit." She said quiet loudly, not seeing Rambo nearby.  
  
"Ya short?" He said, slowly looking up to questioningly to Alisa.  
  
Alisa blinked, realizing Rambo was sitting right there.  
  
"Yeah.. I'll just go get another from-"  
  
She didn't even have a second more to speak; the silvery quarter was tossed into the air, it soon falling into her open palm.  
  
"Thanks. I'll pay you back when I get some money from my bag." She said, as she put the three-quarters into the machine.  
  
"Nah. It's fine." He replied, glancing up to her again. His eyes soon fell from her, almost searching the slightly rotted wood floor for something else to say.  
  
Alisa shrugged and nodded grabbing the full can from the machine. She opened it and then sat next to Rambo on the couch. She took a quick sip from the Coke and slightly extended the soda towards him.  
  
"Want a sip?" She asked.  
  
"No thanks." He said looking to the pop and back down to the wood floor.  
  
Alisa sort of got the message that Rambo wasn't much into talking. She wasn't exactly Miss. Sociable either, but she figured she might as well get to know him if they were going to spend all that time together. She looked away, into a window nearby and watched a bird sit on a leafy branch, pecking away at a seed.  
  
Rambo looked up at her as her attention was pulled away from him. She was kinda pretty.. Okay, okay. So she was very pretty. Beautiful, even.. No. What was he thinking?! She wasn't beautiful. She was his partner. His partner. That's it. He had to remember.. It was a professional level.  
  
Trautman poked his head in, and then slowly walked in fully. His observant hazel eyes saw Rambo looking at Alisa, although she was looking away. This immeadiatly shot up a red flag in his mind.  
  
"John."  
  
Rambo almost abruptly tore his eyes away from Alisa, and then looked at Trautman. He knew that Trautman had seen him looking at Alisa.  
  
"Can I talk to you out in the hall?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He got up and walked out into the hallway with Trautman, shutting the door behind them both. Trautman looked at Rambo with that scolding expression again.  
  
"John."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
". Alisa.. She's.. Very attractive, I know.. But.. This partner deal.. It has to stay.."  
  
Rambo finished his sentence for him.  
  
"Professional."  
  
"Exactly," he replied "You can't.. You know.. You just can't start anything with her.. I kn-"  
  
Trautman didn't even get a chance to finish before Rambo interupted defensively.  
  
"I'm not gonna lay her!" Rambo said, looking a bit upset.  
  
". I'm not saying you will.. But.. I saw how you were looking at her, John."  
  
"...First you drag me out in the middle of no where, not even telling me where the hell I am. Then you tell me I have to protect some jewel in the middle of the jungle. You give me a woman partner and now you insult me? What next?!"  
  
" John. I didn't mean to sound insulting, you know that! But I just don't want anything happening between you both. End of discussion."  
  
Rambo sighed and looked at him. He wanted to say so many things, but. . .  
  
"Why don't you both come with me.. It's time to leave anyway. " Trautman replied turning around a corner.  
  
Rambo wasn't beginning to like any of this. 


End file.
